


The Next Chapter

by veronicassawyer



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, hey i changed the title, idk where this is going but its gonna be gay, it still sucks but its slightly less generic, thats what happens when u dont plan yr fucking stories kids, this is a working title btw, tw for suicide mentions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-09-07 04:55:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8783980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veronicassawyer/pseuds/veronicassawyer
Summary: Heather's dead, Heather's a bitch, Heather's upset, and Veronica's gay (but she doesn't know it yet).





	1. In Which a Bathroom Causes Anguish

“God Heather, why are you such a megabitch?”

“Because I can be,” was the simple response.

Heather spun around, her mind filling with witty comebacks and bitchy one-liners she only wished she could say aloud. In reality she was speechless, overwhelmed and exhausted. She barely had the energy to make it to the bathroom, but by the time she caught her breath she was already locked safely inside a stall.

She was crying. She didn’t notice it at first, but recently she’d found it difficult to focus on anything happening to her so she wasn’t particularly surprised.

She was surprised when she realised she was in _this_ particular bathroom. The one she’d been avoiding for months, the one she regularly took 10 minute detours just so she didn’t have to use it. The one where Veronica saved her life. It was a strange feeling that overcame her; not quite panic, not quite sadness, not quite melancholy, but somewhere between all three. She didn’t know what she was doing, but her head hurt and her throat hurt and she wished that she had finished the job the last time she was here.

“Heather?”

The voice brought clarity to Heather’s thoughts.

“I – she’s – not here,” she replied, muffled and unsure. She wiped her eyes with her sleeves. “I’m sorry, Veronica.”

“Hey, listen. You’ve done nothing to be sorry for. It’s that bitch Duke who needs to be sorry.”

Veronica leant against the stall door and slid down.

“I’m not gonna force you to come out, but I’m staying here with you until you do.”

“I miss Heather, Ronnie.”

“Me too. We all do.”

“But… I didn’t miss her. Not before. She was kind of a bitch, but I’m starting to realise she’s the only thing that kept me alive in this school. She was a bitch but she was the closest I had to a friend.”

There was no response from the other side of the door for a second.

“I know, H.”

More silence, but not an uncomfortable one.

“Can we skip school, Ronnie? I don’t really feel like being here,” Heather’s voice was still shaky, but she was starting to feel calmer.

“Sure, I only have English left today. Where do you wanna go?” Veronica pushed herself up as Heather gently opened the door.

“I don’t know. Anywhere that isn’t here.”

“If you want, I could ask Betty and Martha to come with and we could have an impromptu movie night?”

“That sounds perfect. Thanks Veronica.” She smiled the most genuine smile.


	2. Veronica's Definitely Not Gay

“Jiffy Pop’s done!” came a yell from the kitchen.

“Alright Betty, be right there!” Veronica put her arm around Heather’s shoulders and offered a comforting smile. “You sure you’re alright?”

Heather glanced up, tears still in her eyes but with a look of warmth and contentedness. “Ronnie, my answer hasn’t changed since the last time. I promise, I’m ok.”

“Alright. I’ll be back in a minute.” Veronica kissed Heather gently on the cheek before getting up and practically dancing into the next room.

“God Veronica, gay much?” Betty smirked with a teasing playfulness.

“What?” Veronica stuttered, “What do you mean? I’m not gay?”

“Well, if you’re sure, but that kiss back there looked a tiny bit gay to me. I should know, I’m kind of an expert.”

“Shut up Betty! Just because you’re into girls doesn’t mean you can convert everyone else,” Veronica looked down as she tore the foil off the popcorn and poured it into a bowl. “Let’s just go watch the damn movie.”

Betty smiled as she followed Veronica into the sitting room.

“We all ready?” Martha beamed as she prepared to press play.

“You know it!” Veronica laughed, “But I can’t believe we’re watching The Princess Bride _again_ ,”

“Hey, it’s a great movie!”

“I know, I’m kidding around, let’s get started.” She smiled at Martha.

***

Halfway through the film, Heather rested her head on Veronica’s shoulder. Veronica didn’t pay much attention to the rest of the movie.

***

“I swear to fucking god Betty, I’m not gay! I had a boyfriend, remember?” Veronica whispered from inside her sleeping bag. The only response she got was an amused snorting from the bed over. “Shut up asshole! Don’t wake H and Martha up!”

“Ooh, H is a cute nickname! When d’ya come up with that one?”

“Shut! Up!”


	3. Heather's Ripped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some offensive language in this chapter - homophobic, misogynistic, slut-shaming. only brief though.

Veronica was roused from her dreams to the - somewhat blurry - sight of someone shaking her urgently.

"Ronnie, get up! Class starts in 10 minutes!"

_Fuck._

"Jesus, why didn't you wake me up before?"

"Um, we _tried!_ Turns out Veronica fucking Sawyer kind of isn't a morning person!" Although she tried, Heather couldn't make herself sound pissed off by any means.

Not the start to the day she would have wanted, especially not when a calculus textbook was thrown at her face.

"Betty! That was so mean, apologise to Veronica!" Martha's voice cut in through Veronica's groggy haze. "Although, we really do need to go soon," she added sheepishly.

"Come on, that was fucking funny."

"Remind me to never let you all sleep here again." Veronica muttered, only half joking. "Okay, piss off out of my room, I'm gonna get dressed."

"Don't drift off again my love, we'd hate to leave you behind," Betty blew a kiss over her shoulder as she sauntered through the door. A pillow followed her at speed.

***

"They've done a good job clearing up the mess your ex left, huh," Betty stared at the football field as they passed. "You'd think a fucking bomb in the middle of a sports ground might leave more of a scar."

"Betty, I'd kick your ass right now if you weren't half a foot taller than me," Heather replied, shooting a meaningful glance towards Veronica.

"Don't worry H, I'm fine. Plus, you're a cheerleader, shouldn't you be like, ripped?"

“I mean, I work out, but, you know… Let’s just say I’m not messing with Betty ‘The Rock’ Finn anytime soon.”

“Aw, she’s just a sweetie really, she wouldn’t hurt a fly!” Martha giggled, pulling Betty into a hug.

“Oh yeah? Barron’s AP Calculus tells a different story,” Veronica moaned. She rubbed the side of her head as she said it, prompting a look of sympathy and a surprising peck on the cheek from Heather.

_Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god?_

Heather instantly regretted it and pulled away from her friend, squeezing her eyes shut and clenching her fists.

“Uh, I’m sorry,” she mumbled, staring at her hands as she twisted them together.

“No no! It’s, uh, fine don’t worry about it! I didn’t mind, honestly.”

Veronica could almost feel the stare Betty was giving her.

“Ha!” a shriek came from across the courtyard. “Don’t tell me the head cheerleader isn’t just a crybaby but some kind of _dyke_ as well?”

“Oh, I’m gonna fucking murder her,” Betty spat. “How about mind your own business, you stuck up bitch! Just go screw the next guy who comes into your line of sight and piss off!”

“Come on, she’s not worth it,” Martha grabbed Betty by the arm and dragged her into the school building, followed closely by Heather and Veronica.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Heather cursed silently, her body trembling, her eyes welling up.

“H, are you ok? Don’t listen to her, she doesn’t even deserve that.” Veronica gently took Heather’s hand and rubbed her palm with her thumb. “Do you wanna go somewhere quiet?”

“No, I’m alright, I’m just being an idiot,” Heather mumbled. “It’s my fault, anyway.”

“Come on,” Veronica pulled her into a hug, deep and warm. To Heather, it felt more like home than anything else. “We should go to class, we’re already going to be crucified by Ms. Fleming.”


	4. Texting Like a Mother Fucker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW I took a long time off  
> Anyway this chapter is tiny to get me back into writing I'm probably going to post another today or tomorrow

[13:07] Heather: jesus fucking christ im bored  
[13:07] Heather: ronnie come save me   
[13:09] Veronica: Omg h  
[13:10] Veronica: I would but I’m in chem I probably need saving myself  
[13:10] Heather: just follow in heathers footsteps chug some deadly chemicals for an easy way out  
[13:13] Veronica: Genuinely considering it  
[13:17] Veronica: Suicide is harder when you don’t have a psychopathic boyfriend  
[14:05] Martha: Girls, what have I said about texting in class? The things you learn now will stay with you for your entire life!  
[14:07] Heather: u know what martha youre right im so sorry  
[14:08] Heather: ill never fall asleep in mr hebsons english lesson ever again  
[14:08] Heather: cross my heart  
[14:09] Heather: woa sorry i think i was possessed or some shit for a second…  
[14:10] Heather: anyway english sucks you all suck i hate you  
[14:12] Martha: >:(


	5. Still Not Gay

“Yo, Heather!” Veronica yelled, clutching the strap of her bag to her shoulder as she sprinted across the courtyard.

Heather turned around, brushing her golden hair from her face as she gazed with deep green eyes- _stop it Veronica pull yourself together fucking hell –_

“Hi Veronica! What’s up?”

“Uh.” _Shit._ “Oh right, uh, my parents aren’t home again tonight and, um, it’s Friday so I was wondering if maybe you wanted to sleep over again?”

“Sure, that sounds great!” Heather beamed. “I’d have to go home and check with my dad first though. Are Betty and Martha going to come as well?”

“Uh, no I, think they both said they’re busy.”

“Oh, ok then! I’ll text you later and let you know. I gotta run now though, bye Ronnie!”

Veronica stood, mind whirring, until she was rudely awakened from her thoughts by a familiar voice in her ear.

“Wow, I didn’t know I was busy tonight, Ronnie. You wouldn’t have just _lied_ to your girlfriend now, would you?”

Veronica visibly jumped. “Betty, I don’t know where the fuck you’re getting these ideas from but Heather! Isn’t! My! Girlfriend!” She shot a withering glare at Betty, who seemed to be totally unaffected. “God, I just don’t want you there to throw a fucking textbook at my face when I wake up again.”

“Hey, I did you a favour. And seeing as I’m such a wonderful friend, I’ll do you another and not interrupt you on your special night.” She winked at Veronica, walking away before the red-faced girl could utter a word in response.

Veronica swore under her breath all the way home. She wasn’t gay, she just liked being with Heather, who happened to be a girl. That’s normal. Why did Betty have to make everything about her stupid LG-whatever anyway?

_God_. If it wasn’t for Betty she wouldn’t even having this mental conversation. _She’s got into my head. What a douche._

***

Veronica stepped out of the shower, dripping wet, to see her phone lit up and displaying a new message.

[16:57] Heather: hey my dad says its fine for me to stay at urs, ill be there in ten?

_Shit._ Veronica checked the digital clock in a state of panic.

[17:05]

_S h i t._

[17:05] Veronica: Fuck sorry didn’t see your message

[17:05] Veronica: Are you on your way?

[17:06] Heather: yep! wont be long :)

[17:06] Veronica: Slight problem I’m naked and dripping wet

_WHAT THE FUCK_

[17:06] Veronica: NOT LIKE THAT I JUST GOT OUT OF THE SHOWER

[17:06] Heather: DGHFDHBSFJB

[17:07] Heather: subtle much?

[17:08] Veronica: Fuck you ok just gimme a minute to get ready

[17:08] Heather: sure lmao


	6. Gay Ensues

Having showered, dressed, and generally spruced herself up, Veronica was in a fairly good mood when she texted Heather to let her know she was ready. Even Betty texting her ‘enjoy your night ;)’ couldn’t spoil it. She passed the time humming to herself and fussing over her dog, a tiny Westie.

“You don’t think I’m gay, do you Heathcliff?” He responded by licking Veronica’s hand. “I’ll take that as a no then. Glad someone’s on my side.” If she had looked really closely at Heathcliff’s eyes, she might have seen a glimmer of amusement. Or she might not have.

Either way, she was interrupted from her self-indulgent petting by a quick knock at the door.

“The party’s here, bitches!” It was followed by a loud giggling. Veronica sprang up, rushed to the hallway, and opened the door for her visitor, who appeared to be slouched against the wall laughing to herself.

“Heather, are you drunk?”

“Well Betty _may_ have seen me walk past her house and given me a bottle of wine, but I wouldn’t go that far, silly.” A quick glance told her Heather had drunk most of the wine already. She noticed Veronica’s stare and pouted. “What? You kept me waiting!”

_Wait, why the fuck would Betty just give Heather a bottle of wine?_

[17:21] Veronica: You devious bitch

[17:21] Betty: ;)

Heather hardly seemed to notice Veronica staring at her phone for 30 seconds, instead intently focussing on the tiny ball of fur in the middle of the hallway.

“Veronica! You have a dog?” She exclaimed, eyes wide. “How did I not see him before now?”

“Uh, yeah, his name is Heathcliff. Do you wanna pet him?”

“That’s not even a question.”

Before Veronica could answer, Heather had pushed past her and was kneeling on the floor next to him, murmuring nonsense and laughing to herself.

Veronica had never dealt with a drunk person before. At least, not while sober. She had no idea what to do. Except…

“Fuck it.” Veronica walked through to the kitchen and, resigned, opened her parent’s alcohol cupboard.

The rest of the evening was a blur. Veronica didn’t have too much to drink, but once Heather started it was apparently very difficult to stop. Veronica was only thankful she didn’t start throwing up. The night wasn’t particularly special but Veronica found herself having more fun than she had for a long time. Drunk Heather was Heather but a lot more giggly and affectionate, which, though Veronica wouldn’t admit it, was quite nice. They watched a few films, played a few drinking games, until Heather passed out on the couch. Deciding it wasn’t worth the effort to wake her up and get her into an actual bed, Veronica threw a blanket over her friend and found a sleeping bag for herself. She lay on the floor and listened to Heather’s breathing, on the edge of sleep but never quite drifting off. She was caught off guard when Heather’s voice softly echoed in the room.

“Ronnie, you’re really pretty.”

Veronica was infinitely thankful that the darkness was hiding her blush.

“It’s 2 am H, go to sleep.”

“No, I mean it, you’re really really pretty.  It’s like I said when we first met,” she started giggling to herself, “but like, less shallow.”

She didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t gay, probably; she wanted to tell Heather to shut up and go to sleep but, somehow, she just couldn’t.

“What do you mean?”

“What do you think I mean, silly? You’re cute ‘nd stuff,”

“But. Like. Are you saying you… like me?”

Heather didn’t reply, Veronica’s heart was in her throat.

“Uh. I don’t know, Ronnie. Maybe? Is that weird?”

“Well, I’m not gay. I think. Or, I thought. I don’t know? H, it’s too early to be questioning my entire life,” she joked. There was no laugh in reply. “But. Maybe. Maybe I am? Because, uh, maybe I like you?”

Heather remained silent. Veronica was terrified; she’d just admitted something out loud that she couldn’t even admit to herself until two minutes ago.

After what seemed like an eternity of waiting in the dark, Heather started giggling and snorting abruptly, as she was wont to do.

“Fuck Ronnie, that took us long enough!” Veronica couldn’t quite see the comedy in the situation. “I like you, you massive nerd. Like, _like_ like you!” Veronica was in a state of shock.

“Uh.”

Heather rolled herself off the couch and lay in front of Veronica.

“Are you ok?”

She didn’t reply for a few seconds, but when she it was in the form of a burst of laughter. She pushed herself forward and kissed Heather’s exposed cheek, which promptly burned bright red.

“Ronnie!” She laughed, hiding behind her hand.

The two spent a good half hour like that, giddy with the excitement of a secret finally in the open. When they finally fell asleep, neither one was on the couch. They slept close to each other, not quite touching, but near enough.


	7. A Complex Relationship with a Mobile Phone

[05:08] Heather: I’m sorry

_Message failed to send. Tap to retry._

[05:12] Heather: I hate you

_Message failed to send. Tap to retry._

[05:13] Heather: Please come back

_Message failed to send. Tap to retry._

The phone hadn’t buzzed in a long time. According to Heather, she’d dropped it in a swimming pool. In reality, she’d kept it. Sent texts to a number that no longer existed. Read conversations from a different time. A different life. She’d bought a new phone for everyday use. She couldn’t bear to hear her old phone ring if it wasn’t _her_ ringtone. She couldn’t even say her name. Ironic, seeing as she shared it.

She scrolled up, looking for the last text she had been sent by her.

_By Heather. By…_

She couldn’t say it.

[4 months ago] Heather: lmfao thi s is fjcking  lit

Heather’s eyes welled up as she read it. She’d read that message so many times. She never found any deeper meaning in it, despite her best efforts. She was about to let her eyes drift over it one more time, before she clamped them shut and threw the phone across her room.

Loss was a funny thing. Although she’d never told anyone, she was so happy when her friend died. It signalled the end of one chapter in her life – a chapter of being pushed around, of inferiority and of… nothingness. It so often felt like she didn’t even exist. On the day of Heather’s funeral, she had made a vow to stand up for herself. To never let herself be treated the way her so-called best friend had treated her again. And it had worked. She became the person she’d always wanted to be, and she _loved_ it. But then, loss reared its head again, this time in the form of her two remaining friends getting sick of her shit. Which was fair, she could admit it.

She dropped the phone behind her bed, where it lived when she wasn’t mid-breakdown. Her body collapsed, her head bouncing on her pillow. Her eyes closed. Her alarm was screaming at her, but she didn’t care. The noise helped her focus, gave her something to hang on to. If she’d heard anyone else say that, they wouldn’t have heard the end of it, but inside her mind it sounded right. Sometimes it felt to her that clichés were all she had.

“Heather!” A voice screamed from downstairs. “Turn off that fucking alarm!”

She complied, pushing herself up, shaking her head to cast away the cloud of dust that had settled there. Again, clichés were comforting to her.

The morning passed her by; breakfast ate itself, the mirror reflected her immaculate makeup back at her, and by the time she became vaguely aware of her surroundings she was strolling through the suburbs, her Labrador puppy, Ishmael, tugging at the lead in her hand. The sun felt good on her arms as she walked. She didn’t need a façade. She could just walk. She focused on the vibrations each step sent through her body. _Thump. Thump. Thump._

_Who needs therapy, am I right?_

She laughed – or rather, she exhaled and smiled to herself, and kept walking. She was beginning to get bored of her footsteps when she felt her dog pull against the lead, straining to break free.

“Ishy!” She scolded, tugging him back. “Heel!”

Heather shielded her eyes from the sun with one hand as she looked in the direction he was pulling. The familiar feeling of anxiety welled up in her stomach as she saw the two girls (and their dog) that Ishmael was so interested in.

_Fuck. Fuck, I can’t face them right now._

She spun around on her heel and dragged Ishmael back, desperate to get home, or anywhere that wasn’t near them, as fast as possible. She broke into a jog, not looking back until she pushed open her front door, dropped the lead, raced upstairs and collapsed on her bed. She rubbed her face with both hands, waiting for the anxiety to loosen its hold on her gut.

She felt weak. She hated that.

She hated the sound of her old ringtone cutting through the silence more.


End file.
